The Habbers would go. Their agreement would compel them to leave if they were no longer welcome; Turing would be left to Cytherians. The Habbers on the Islands would be next; Alim ibn-Sharif had cultivated allies among his fellow Administrators and with the Project Council on Anwara. Sigurd Kristens-Vitos would be asked to resign as Liaison to the Council. If he gave in gracefully and admitted that the Habbers had led him astray, perhaps he could continue as an Administrator. The Habbers would lose their most powerful ally. If their past history was any indication, they would depart from the Islands rather than risk a confrontation and show themselves to be the cowards they were. They would have to leave or admit that all their talk of only wanting to help Cytherians was a lie.
She almost hoped a few would resist; individual Habbers had occasionally shown a little courage in the past. Some people on the patrol would enjoy demonstrating exactly how futile such actions would be. They were Habbers; she did not have to love them.
“A new era is dawning,” Matthew said. “You've worked for this, and yet you seem troubled. In just two days, once we're past these celebrations, the Habbers will see that they no longer have a place here. Are you afraid that they'll try to stand against us? They wouldn't have only Cytherians to contend with but Earth as well.”
“Maybe that still troubles me,” she said. “With the Habbers gone, there would be little to prevent the Mukhtars from reasserting their control over this Project. It's the reason we've been as patient as we have.”
“Now you're sounding like Eva. How many times do I have to tell you that our interests coincide with Earth's at the moment? We want to be rid of the last obstacle to our progress, and the Mukhtars want to look as though they've regained control here. Let them appoint a new Liaison with the Project Council—it's likely to be Alim, and even if it isn't, any Liaison will be forced to work with us. Earth won't interfere—they'll be happy to let us do the work of subduing the recalcitrant and bringing them around to our truth. We'll have an interim during which we can strengthen the fellowship before the Project proceeds with more settlers. This world will be ours, Chimene.”
“If the Mukhtars behave as you say they will.”
“They have no reason to do otherwise,” he said. “They want only the appearance of control—trying for more would cost them too many of their resources, and they'll already have to make up for the help the Habbers won't be able to provide. Let the Mukhtars believe we're their allies. Eventually, when everyone here is part of our fellowship, when we're strong and thriving—that will be the time to break with Earth.”
Chimene did not respond.
“It's only a temporary necessity,” he went on, “one that will bring about our perfect society in the end. You'll be the Guide who made that possible. Generations of Cytherians will remember you and bless your name.”
She frowned. “Some may say we expelled the Habbers only to bow to Earth.”
“No, Chimene. They'll see how wise you were when this world is ours. Don't you know that they love you enough to understand that you wouldn't lead them into error? Do you think they won't trust their Guide? Let the Mukhtars tell their people that Venus is their achievement. Every Cytherian will see that you are the true authority here.”
“I have only a Guide's authority,” she said, “and the love others choose to give me.”
“Sometimes one must make difficult and painful decisions in order to demonstrate one's love. You won't be alone. You'll always have the counsel of those who love you most.”
She got to her feet. Matthew rose and took her hands. “Will you return to the celebrations now?” he asked.
Chimene shook her head. “I must rest.”
“Then I'll stay with you. You've been under a strain, I know. Perhaps you've waited so long for this time that you can't yet believe that it's nearly upon us.”
* * * *
Dyami did not have to view the results; he already knew what they would be. The Councils Ishtar controlled would not have allowed this referendum without knowing how it would go. The two hundred or so votes of the Cytherians in Turing would not outweigh the thousands of others.
The people standing around him gazed at the large wall screen in silence. He stepped back and looked at those who were seated on the floor around the dining hall's tables. One man pushed his breakfast away, then bowed his head; Luinne Mitsuo lifted a hand to her mouth. No one else seemed surprised.
“We will make arrangements for the Habbers who will be leaving Turing within a week,” Boaz Huerta was saying now; the dome Councils had designated him as their spokesman. “We were told that if it was our will that they leave, the nearest Habitat would send a ship for them. Since their presence is not required on the Islands, they will be returning to their home. We have capable people in Turing who can continue working there.”
Dyami heard a few sighs. They had been granted that much, at least.
“We Cytherians have spoken,” Boaz continued, “and our voices will be heard. Those who share our goals and our vision are welcome here. Those who seek to deceive us and use us in some hidden plan of their own are not.”
Dyami could listen to no more. He walked toward the doorway, where Balin was waiting. Music still filled the hall; no one had bothered to turn it off. Allen Sirit had engineered this piece, blending the sounds to reproduce his own composition. Stringed instruments rose to a crescendo and broke against the deeper, more threatening sound of percussion.
The two men left the hall and walked toward the creek, ignoring those they passed. Amina was sitting outside the shack she had built next to Dyami's, her blond head on the shoulder of Tasida Getran. The brown-haired physician looked up at Dyami and said, “I don't have to ask, do I.”
He shook his head. “The vote might have surprised them a little. Almost a quarter of the people in Oberg and Curie voted against expulsion. In Mtshana, it was nearly a third.”
“But it doesn't make any difference, of course.” Tasida's freckled face contorted. “And things will be a little harder for the ones who voted no.”
He walked on with Balin. They did not stop until the greenhouse and the bridge leading across to the glassy building were behind them. Balin settled himself on the bank; his eyes were empty, his thin lips pressed tightly together.
“You're going to leave,” Dyami said.
“I have no choice.”
“You could refuse—all of you could say you won't go. Your people could insist—”
“And what would that accomplish?” Balin asked. “Your people would then say that what Ishtar believes about us is true—that we abide by your wishes only when they don't conflict with ours. Oh, we could bring more ships here and force you to accept us, but will that bring our people closer together? It would only destroy what little goodwill is left for us.”
“You think you'll keep it by running away?”
The Habber touched his forehead, where his Link was hidden. “Your people have spoken. So have ours—those who dwell in the Habitats out near Mars. They are saying that we cannot hold out a hand to people who refuse it This will pass perhaps, and then our people may meet yours again.”
“When?” Dyami asked. “But that doesn't matter to you, does it? You may still be alive when everyone now living here is dead. What about those of us in Turing? Doesn't what we want count for anything with you? What about the others who reject Ishtar's dream?”
“That must be your struggle, not ours. You must decide this world's fate. Your people have asked us to leave this planet's surface. Should they ask us to return in the future, we'll do so gladly.”
Dyami stepped back. Balin had been his lover for only a year and a half, but that time now seemed to encompass most of his own life. The years before had been lived in the shadow of fear; the boy who had concealed part of himself, who had felt that he would always be alone, was not the man who lived now. He could not have hidden what the Habber meant to him even if he had wished to do so. His openness about his feelings had not only b
rought him Balin's love, but had also dispelled the lingering doubts some of his colleagues held about him. He had at last been honest with the people here; after their initial surprise, some had come to be true friends. His true life, one without loneliness, had begun.
He should have seen that it could not be the same for the Habber. Balin's life had begun decades before his, and it would continue when his was over. He was no more than a brief interlude. The microscopic implants in the Habber's body would go on maintaining his youth and vigor, replicating new cells to replace the old, when Dyami was no more than a face on a memorial pillar. Balin might have hoped for more years with him, but he had loved others before and would undoubtedly love other people again. Dyami had always known there could be no true bond between them, that this love would pass, yet he had hoped it might endure for longer than this.
“I should have known better than to love a Habber,” he said. “Once you're with your own people again, you'll forget me soon enough. You'll tell your friends a few amusing stories about the Cytherian who was foolish enough to love you, and then you'll forget.”
“Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I wouldn't stay if I could or take you with me if that were possible?”
Dyami stared at the ground. “I couldn't go, even if it were. I'd be giving up on my own world, saying it'd never be anything better.”
“Maybe it will be. We found each other, didn't we? It didn't matter that I was a Habber and you were a Cytherian. Don't let me leave here thinking that you'll come to share your people's distrust of us. I have to be able to hope we can meet again.”
“You're abandoning us,” Dyami said.
“We're leaving you to decide what your world will be. You wouldn't have that choice if we remained against the will of most of your people.” Balin reached up and took his hand. “We'll still have a little more time together. We can forget the demands of both our worlds for a little while.”
Dyami sank to the ground. He would be alone. Easing the demands of his body with other men later would not make up for what he was about to lose. Balin would be gone; he would have to live in shadows again.
* * * *
Sigurd felt his world slipping away from his grasp. No Habbers remained in Turing; they were gone now, departing from Anwara in the Habber vessel that had come there for them. Tesia had summoned him to her room; he had already guessed what she would say.
He had been wrong in thinking that he could appease Ishtar, in believing that the wretched cult would never grow strong enough to challenge him. He had ignored the plotting of Alim ibn-Sharif and his allies, certain that they could never gain support for their ambitions from Earth. He had counted on having the Habber presence here as a shield; he had expected to have time enough for people to come to their senses. He had hoped that the people he served would see reason and remember the true goals of the Project. Perhaps he had been in power too long to remember how easily it could be lost.
As usual lately, a patrol volunteer was standing outside the Habber residence, hands hooked around his sash. He glanced at Sigurd briefly, then allowed him to pass. Tesia had been asking him to come here more often, and he knew why; she was convinced, despite his protests, that Alim and his friends had ways of finding out what they said and did in Sigurd's room.
Tesia, wearing a long blue robe, was sitting on her futon. Had he been her lover for over thirty years? It did not seem possible. His waist had thickened a little, and the skin of his once-youthful face sagged a bit more, but Tesia still had the body and face of a girl.
She lifted her chin as he sat down. Her reddish hair was pulled back, making the angularity of her face more evident. “I have something to tell you,” she said. “My people have decided to withdraw from Venus entirely. We will be gone in twenty days.”
“Aren't you even going to wait until you're asked to leave?”
“There's no reason to wait,” she responded. “We know how things will go.”
“Maybe you didn't look at the results of that referendum too closely,” Sigurd said. “Ishtar's victory wasn't quite as overwhelming as I expected—just a good solid majority. It means that a sizable number of settlers aren't quite so willing to see you go.”
“That gives us some hope, but as long as we're here, Ishtar can unite more people by focusing their hatred on us. When we're gone and they see they're rid of us, they'll have to find other outlets. Maybe then, more of your people will be moved to stand against them. To put it another way, it's time to allow this particular kettle to boil.”
She was speaking so calmly about possibilities that might bring suffering to many. Habbers, of course, could not bear to witness suffering of any kind. They would rather retreat and let others inflict such wounds on themselves, while Habbers stood aside and told themselves they were blameless.
Tesia could wait. She probably saw his struggles and those of his people as he might view the lives of a short-lived insect colony.
“And when it's boiled over?” he asked. “Maybe Earth will lower the fire. Didn't you think of that?”
“If Earth acts overtly, your people won't give in easily. The Mukhtars would find it difficult both to subdue them and to proceed with this Project without our aid. I think we can expect that our departure will be a temporary one.”
He could not even feel angry. She was now viewing his life in the same way he had seen the lives of others—pawns in a game, pieces to be moved in ways that would make his goals for this Project a reality.
“I suppose your people want me to make the announcement,” he said. “Maybe you think that if it looks as though I ordered you away, it'll shore up any lingering support I might have. I could give quite a speech, but I'm sure my colleague Alim and his friends will find a way to force me to resign. I may be lucky if I stay on as an Administrator's aide. How gratified Ishtar will be. That bitch Chimene Liang-Haddad will no doubt give a stirring speech of her own about how the new age is beginning to dawn for us.”
“One of our ships will head for Anwara,” she said. “Because of our respective orbital positions, it can make the journey in less than three days if it leaves sixteen days from now. We'll leave the Platform in your shuttles and meet our ship at Anwara.” She paused. “There are only a hundred of us on all of the Islands, so two shuttles should be enough for us—perhaps three, if our closest friends among the Islanders choose to travel with us to Anwara to say their farewells to us there. Surely you won't deny such a request to any Islander who asks.”
“Oh, of course not,” Sigurd replied, “If anyone's foolish enough to want a few additional moments with those we once thought of as friends, I'll grant them. Even Alim wouldn't object to that, since it will show him exactly who might be most untrustworthy. Some of those people may pay a price for their farewells.”
Tesia took a breath. “Those can be the official arrangements anyway.” Her face was paler; her hands fluttered nervously.
“What do you mean?”
“They won't be saying farewell to us but to the Islands. Some of us have lovers here or close friends whom we can trust. We'll offer them the chance to come to our Habitat with us. Some will take it, and those who don't won't be people who would betray us. I pleaded with my people for this, and they agreed.”
“And exactly how do you expect to accomplish this?” he asked.
“Your pilots will be disabled when they're aboard. There will be Habbers aboard each shuttle capable of piloting it, should the automatic systems fail. When we're in orbit, we'll set course for the Habitat. Our own vessel will never dock at Anwara. Once we're in orbit, the pilots in that ship will go into a high orbit and follow us back. We won't be pursued. You have no vessels docked on Anwara with weapons capable of disabling us at the moment.”
Sigurd did not speak.
“We'll return the shuttles, needless to say. I imagine the distaste of your pilots for us will outweigh any fears they might have of reprisals for their carelessness. We know we can reach the Habitat in your shu
ttles. After all, it's been done before, when our world was close enough to be reached that way. We have those pilots who joined us long ago to advise us.”
“And you expect me to see that anyone who chooses to go with you gets aboard those shuttles? That's hardly going to help me here. Alim will never believe that I was unaware of your plans, not after all the years you and I have been together.”
She said, “Sigurd, I want you to come with us.” She pulled at his arm. “Why do you think I begged my people to allow this? I don't want to leave you behind.”
“Some of your people had friends in Turing,” he said. “You didn't try to bring along any of them.”
“If it had been possible—” Tesia closed her eyes for a moment. “I wish it had been. I had to plead just for this much. You must come.”
He gripped her hand tightly, then let go. “I can't.”
“Why not? You've done all you can—don't you deserve a life for yourself? You know your position will be precarious when we leave. When it's time, if you and the other Islanders want it, you can return here and rejoin—”
“I might not be a Cytherian by then, but a Habber. No, Tesia. If I leave now, I'll be abandoning my world. I'd be deserting all the people who understood what I was trying to do. I can't do it. I shouldn't even allow others to run away. I'd be wiser to reveal your little plot before you go—that might convince Alim he can trust me a bit more.”
“I knew there was a chance of that before I spoke,” she said, “but I can't believe you'd do it, and I couldn't hide our plans from you. Sigurd, I was pleading for you—I can't lose you now.”
“Would you give up your people for mine?” He did not wait for a reply. “You know the answer to that.”
“Sigurd—”
“I'll see you off safely. If I'm reduced to being just a Linker on a team of specialists, I think I can live with that. If some Islanders choose to go with you—well, maybe it's better to be rid of people whose commitment to this world is so weak. You'll forget me, Tesia. You'll have a Habber's long lifetime in which to forget.”
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